Speak
by The Goliath Beetle
Summary: Lovino is shy. So is Antonio. Oh dear... *multi-chapter Spamano*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Fanfiction is so soothing. Falling back to the same characters for a while…it feels a little bit like home. Sorry for getting that sappy, haha. It's just great to be writing some.**

* * *

Little shoes pressed down on pavement stones. Stones? Or just crumbs of tar that had broken away from the road and flung to the footpath by a callously ignorant passing car? Little shoes pressed down on the earth – _I can't believe the teacher said the earth is round, it seems so flat –_ and green eyes looked longingly at the boy with the overgrown blonde curls, walking ahead with his mother.

Antonio gripped the straps of his haversack, heart in his throat. It was a clear day, warm, but not enough to justify the cold sweat from his palms. His father shoved him by the shoulders gently. "Go on, Toni."

Shutting his eyes and opening them, he saw the boy and his mother going further and further away – it was too late, he was missing his chance, he –

"Francis!" Antonio cried out. His legs shook a little when Francis and his mom turned. The boy's light blue eyes widened in recognition.

"Hey, Antonio," he called back, retracing his steps to approach him.

Antonio swallowed, gripping his bag straps tighter. "Um. So. It's my eighth birthday this Saturday…my family and I are going to the zoo. Um. Would – would you like to come?"

Francis's mother smiled. "That's a lovely idea. I'm sure Francis would be happy to come. Wouldn't you, honey?"

Francis fluttered his long lashes in thought. "Sure. That sounds like fun. Can Gilbert come too?"

 _Who?_ Antonio thought, but nodded yes without thinking. "That would be cool."

The blonde jumped in his spot, his face lighting up. Blue eyes twinkled. "Thanks, Toni! See you Saturday!"

"11 am," Antonio's father added, shaking hands with Francis's mother. "See you then, Francis!"

* * *

"Are you Feliciano's father?"

Romulus Vargas laughed. "Goodness no, I'm his grandfather. Their father is out of town for business. You don't mind me picking them up from school, do you? I think their mother informed you that I would be ferrying them for the next few weeks."

There was a piece of paper in Lovino's hand. His drawing was shaky, and spotty at places. His pencil nib had broken and while erasing the unattractive graphite stains off the page, he'd worn out the paper. It was crumbling in places, fibres coming out. He'd worked hard, though, his tongue poking out in concentration as he inked a lovely image of a puppy dog in a park. He'd even coloured it in different shades of brown!

Their teacher – Mr Laurinaitis – smiled, shaking his head in agreeable laughter. "No, no, that's not why I asked. Well, Mr Vargas, I just wanted to tell you that Feliciano made a lovely drawing in class today." Gesturing to Feli, he went on, "show your grandpa, go on."

Feli grinned from ear to ear, setting his bag on the ground and pulling out a folded, crumbled, crummy sheet of paper with the picture of a kitten on a leash, held by a little boy with orange hair and a gravity defying curl.

"The project was to draw their dream pet," Mr Laurinaitis explained.

Grandpa made a big show of admiring the picture, praising it in both Italian and English. Lovino waited patiently for his turn. He'd made a lovely drawing. Feli's was stupid. Who put a cat on a leash, anyway?

So Lovino waited. He waited in the car on the way home. He waited after his bath and while they ate dinner. He waited before he went to bed.

And his praise, the praise he thought he was so entitled to, never came.

* * *

"Guys?" Antonio stared languidly at the ceiling, stretching out on Gilbert's bed and raising one socked foot to inspect a bit of lint. He really liked Gilbert's room. It had a wall hanging of the Prussian flag, a shaggy blue rug and white walls that seemed to give the place a lot of light.

On the floor with his back against the bed, Gilbert hummed, not looking away from his recently updated blog. Francis glanced up from where he combed his hair in the mirror. ("A hundred brush strokes before you sleep keeps your locks healthy and neat!")

Antonio swallowed, lowering his foot and staring back at the ceiling again. "I have a confession."

This seemed to get Gilbert's attention, because he put his laptop aside and turned, his head at an odd angle. Francis dropped the brush entirely, skipping to the bed and sitting cross-legged, leaning forward and hugging the pillow. "Do tell, Toni," he almost purred, blue eyes bright and excited.

For his part, Antonio didn't dare look at them. He just lay the way he was, seemingly laconic. "Remember my sixteenth birthday party last month?"

"Not particularly," Gilbert quipped, sniggering. "It gets hazy after we broke into your brother's liquor stash."

Antonio tittered reluctantly. "So I got a bit drunk…"

"A _bit_?" Francis chortled.

"Well." Antonio allowed himself the briefest of smiles. "Anyway, I, uh, kind of ended up making out with Roderich."

He was met with stunned silence. In growing horror, Antonio closed his eyes, clenching his fists to stem the rising panic.

Then, sounding utterly sandalised, Francis cried, " _But I thought Roderich's straight!_ "

"Yeah, oh my god, isn't he dating Elizabeta?" Gilbert chimed in.

What the hell.

Antonio bolted up so quickly his head spun. "I think you're missing the point? I'm trying to tell you that I think I'm gay."

The announcement was met with two pairs of differently coloured eyes, blinking at Antonio and then at each other, before turning to Antonio again. Again, Francis was the one to initiate.

"Oh," he said, his voice soft and puzzled. Glancing at Gilbert again, he continued, "…I mean, we've known _that_ for a while."

"True, _bruder_ ," Gilbert added with a playfully friendly smile. "The real news here is Roderich. Everyone thinks he's straight."

Antonio swallowed, staring at his two best friends. He heard himself say, "he certainly didn't act that way on my birthday."

The two of them started to laugh.

"Wait, so you know and you don't mind me having sleepovers with you guys and stuff?"

Gilbert stood, calmly walked over to Antonio and casually slapped the back of his head. "Don't ask us such a stupid question again."

He went back to his blog. Francis went back to the mirror. And that was basically that.

* * *

On their sixteenth birthday, Lovino sat in the reception of the rather ostentatiously named Hotel Regal Phoenix, scrolling through Facebook. It was the only place you could get wifi. For some reason, there was almost no coverage in his room. Their parents and grandpa had promised to give them a lovely dinner at Hotel Regal Phoenix's fancy restaurant, but Lovino wasn't looking forward to it.

They were here because Feli was taking part in an inter-city art contest. He would probably win. And Lovino would still have only 345 Facebook friends and exactly _zero_ achievements.

The reception area was gorgeous. Lovino kept scanning it with his eyes, admiring the intricately painted wooden panels above the door, the winding staircase and the smooth cream walls. The plants in the corner of the room breathed some life into it, but Lovino was most taken by the massive glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was cut in thousands of little shapes, each shard twinkling in the sunlight that streamed through the windows.

A large group of Japanese tourists had disembarked from a bus, crowding around the reception and chatting excitedly. It was always fun observing people. What they wore, what they did, the way they interacted with each other. Foreign tourists were even more fun to watch because of the small things. How they'd do their hair and makeup, the languages they spoke in, the way they seemed either too excitable or really reserved.

Lovino watched them now. It was distracting. And really, quite lovely.

* * *

It was no wonder Antonio turned out shy. His family was full of extroverts who went to social events and chatted with strangers in the grocery line and sought out human company wherever they saw it. Someone had to balance this energy out. So Antonio, the youngest, was born shy.

…Is anyone ever _born_ shy? Antonio had wondered that more than once. Maybe he was an introvert, and the shyness then just came naturally.

…He wasn't really an introvert either, really. He didn't lock himself in his room all day, cancelling plans and scrolling through Tumblr. He had friends, lots of them. Gilbert and Francis of course, but also Elizabeta and Arthur and Alfred and Matthew and loads of other people he knew from school or after school football clubs. He went to parties with them. He met them in cafes and restaurants. He ate dinner with their families.

He just got really anxious and awkward around new people. Having friends wasn't the point. He had plenty. It was _making_ friends. He'd got a lot better at it over the years. There used to be a time when he had to plan for a week to invite friends over (Francis on his eighth birthday). Now he could pretty much fake confidence throughout an entire conversation, never giving away any signs of distress. It took a bit of mental preparation. (Going to a party meant he had to spend hours revving himself up to be social – the upshot was that he absolutely _loathed_ spontaneous plans. Except when it was with Gil and Franny.)

He'd never actually been in a relationship. It always seemed to move too fast for him. The dating, the making out, the confessing deep feelings. And the expectation of sex. All of it was somewhat horrifying to him. So while his best friends moved from one love interest to another, Antonio remained where he was: single and ready to mingle (*conditions apply).

* * *

Cool weather – the sort with a slight nip – was the best. Lovino looked good in leather jackets, which was what he wore now. He'd polished his shoes, unsure of just how put-together he had to look for this interview. It wasn't a very conventional internship, in fact, Lovino was pretty sure he could walk in there wearing old jeans and a faded t-shirt and get the spot. How many people would apply to a place called _Feliks's Lucky Glass Works_? Who was Feliks? What made this particular glass works workshop so damn lucky?

The name amused him. As did the internship.

 _Learn how to blow glass! Make beautiful figurines and art out of glass! Jewelry! Paperweights! Decorative items! Apply now!_

They needed to calm down on the exclamation marks, but the overall message was clear as – well, glass. Lovino was nineteen. His brother had just left for a fancy art college, the recipient of some scholarship. Feli had the weight of everybody's expectations on him. And Lovino had…nothing to do. He didn't have a passion. (Perhaps at one point in life, he did. But painting was not his skill. He didn't have any talent to speak of.) He needed change.

And making glass artifacts seemed interesting enough.

The workshop was all the way across the city, but luckily there was a bus stop right outside his house, and bus number 34 went exactly where he needed to go.

As he waited for it, someone else walked up.

"Uh, excuse me?" a tentative voice ventured, making Lovino glance up from his phone. "Is this where bus 34 stops?"

Lovino's chest went tight for a split second, before control took over. "Yeah."

The man smiled, relief gracing his features. Smiles looked really good on him. The panic in Lovino's chest came right back. He couldn't dare stare at the stranger's bottle green eyes.

"Thank you," the man said, taking his place in line behind Lovino. An awkward, expectant silence stretched on. Lovino stared determinedly at his phone, not actually doing anything. He kept opening Facebook and closing it again. The stranger shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag over and over again. Like Lovino, he was dressed for something too. His formal blue shirt and black trousers made him seem older than his face suggested. While the top button of his shirt was undone, he had shiny black shoes, fresh from polish.

They were both young. They were both dressed up. And it was seven in the morning.

To Lovino, it seemed obvious. Both of them were trying to make a good impression.

Bus number 34 lumbered to their stop, and Lovino shoved away another nervous jolt. It was time to go to work.

He glanced behind him for some reason, just before he took his seat. The stranger offered him the faintest of smiles before sitting in the other row. Lovino bit the inside of his cheek and glanced away, cheeks feeling warm.

* * *

 **A/N: Fuuuuuck me. This was going to be a one-shot, but it isn't. So it'll be like three chapters, max. I hope.** _ **Ugh.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter zwei, in which our main characters are stupider still.**

* * *

"It's okay, it's okay, it's gonna be fine." Lovino pressed a hand to his nose and mouth, trying to physically force away a jolt of rising panic.

The bus had dropped him off only five minutes away from the glass works place. The handsome stranger hadn't disembarked yet. (Where was he going? _Shut the fuck up, Lovino._ ) Now, Lovino just walked through a quiet, seemingly industrial neighbourhood. There was a button factory to his left, a tiny bistro up ahead and a souvenir store. Not too far away was a cheery painted sign (in comic sans, of all things): _Feliks' Lucky Glass Works_. There was a grey warehouse sort of structure that was probably the workshop, and a glass-doored entrance to a store.

Lovino just stood before it, silently freaking out. Fucking social interactions, really. Most of the times he was fine, but when it came to important things? Like interviews and phone conversations and oral language exams? It felt like a part of his lungs were being sliced in half with an invisible – glass – sword.

The inside of the store seemed dingy, empty, except for a blonde haired guy by the cash counter reading _Cosmo._ The shop windows, shelves and floor space were adorned with glass artifacts: mantelpieces, clocks, beakers, figurines, jewelry, all of them colourful and unique, some of them reminding Lovino of the glass he'd seen in Murano, Italy.

"It's going to be fine," he told himself firmly, steeling his nerves, throwing his shoulders back and exhaling a deep breath of air. With that, he pushed the door opened and stepped in.

The blonde glanced up.

"Hey. I'm Lovino Vargas. I'm here for the internship interview?"

The blonde pushed a lock of his overgrown hair behind his ear, blinked curiously at him, and then said, "Oh, yeah!" in the chirpiest voice. "I'm Feliks. I spoke to you on the phone? Nice to meet you!" He stepped out from behind the cash counter and Lovino had to force back a gasp of surprise when he saw the guy wearing a long purple skirt.

They shook hands.

Feliks gestured to a chair opposite the cash counter. "So, Lovino, why do you want to do this internship?"

Lovino swallowed, forced a smile and said, "I just finished school and I wanted to have a learning experience to help me figure out what I want to do." It was a weak answer by any standards, but Feliks grinned.

"Wonderful. You're hired."

"Wh-what?" Lovino's mouth was dry. "Just like that?"

Laughing, Feliks replied, "You're the only one who bothered to call us about the internship. It shows an eagerness to learn something different! And you showed up on time! That shows punctuality! And you actually _showed up_! That shows commitment! You're a winner in my book, dude."

 _Your book must be the saddest thing ever._ Lovino forced another saccharine smile. "Good to know."

* * *

Antonio's back and shoulders were killing him by the time he reached home. He'd been commuting for two hours, and had changed buses twice. This new job he had – his _first_ job, really – was going to be hard to adapt to. First he had to take the 17 from his home, then the 29, and then the 34, right to the end of the route. Murder.

"You're quiet," his brother Henrique commented halfway through dinner. Both his parents glanced at him and then at Antonio, who was sitting with his cheek in his hand, leaning into his soup with drooping eyes.

"All okay with your new job?" his mother asked.

Antonio nodded. "I really enjoyed it. The people are nice. It's just a long time to travel. Two hours one way."

"You didn't tell me it was _that_ long a commute." Her tone was indignant, staring at Antonio with severe eyes.

He laughed it off. "I'll get used to it. It's only the first day."

Henrique leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Any hot guys there?"

Heat rushed up to Antonio's face. " _No_. And shut up."

"Come on, you don't tell me anything about your love life."

"It isn't much of a love life, and why do you care?"

Henrique sniggered. He loved riling Antonio up.

* * *

Oh god, he was there again.

Internally, Antonio was currently undergoing the mental equivalent of screaming into a pillow like a hysterical twelve-year-old. On the outside, however, he remained solemn, walking up to the bus stop where the boy with the liquid golden eyes stood, staring at his phone, listening to music through earplugs.

As Antonio approached, the boy glanced up, eyes seemingly racing through Antonio's features before turning back to his phone. He noticed the boy press down on the side, increasing the volume. It was now loud enough for Antonio to hear faint beats of the rhythm escaping the earphones and spilling into the morning air, where it vanished between the general sounds of the breeze, chirping birds and the whir of cars.

The man was so good-looking. It was unbelievable. He wasn't chiseled and sharp and model-like, his features were more real than that. His chocolate brown hair off-set his brilliant eyes and lightly tanned skin, his sharp nose made him seem imperial. Like a Roman god. Antonio found the scattering of tiny pimples on his nose really cute. Grounding, because if his skin was clear, he would be utterly perfect and Antonio's soul would have ascended from his body.

Antonio felt too conscious of himself, even though the other man seemed to completely ignore him, and there was nobody else at the bus stop. He felt as though he were on camera, and there was someone watching and judging every move he made. The way he pressed his lips together and blinked, staring ahead at the pastel-hued houses that lined the road. The way he tapped his foot, yawning because he'd been up since five thirty to make this commute, and he was still not entirely awake. He was conscious of the peppermint taste of his breath, still fresh from the toothpaste.

He. Just. Felt. Hyperaware.

Because of that other guy. That stupid almost-Roman god standing there, staring at his phone, listening to music, completely unaware of the torment Antonio was going through.

* * *

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

It was him again.

The guy with the bottle green eyes from yesterday was back once more, wearing another shirt and trousers, carrying that stupid grey messenger bag, eyes slightly puffy with sleep and smelling distinctly of aftershave. _Don't look, Lovino, don't look._ He kept his eyes absolutely fixed on his phone, his long sleeves thankfully covering the goosebumps he had from the nervous chill that ran from his chest to his stomach. He had to distract himself _somehow._ That's why Lovino pressed the volume button on his phone, hard. The sudden loudness was uncomfortable, especially for this time of morning, but fuck that. He just had to think about something else. Anything else. Distract himself from the obviously-muscled-under-that-shirt hunk with the broad shoulders and the large hands, whose gentle face and bright eyes made Lovino weak to the goddamn knees.

Don't look at him. Don't look at him. Don't look at him.

Was this going to be a regular thing? Because if so, Lovino was going to start walking to work instead of taking the bus. There was no way in hell he had the emotional maturity to handle this situation.

* * *

As bus 34 pulled in, Antonio let out a soft sigh of relief. Thank goodness. He could just sit by the window, shut his eyes and try to sleep instead of constantly focusing on Lord Golden Eyes and how he was making a fool of himself in front of this beautiful person by merely standing in his presence.

The bus was full. Except for one long seat.

No. No. Noooooooo.

Lord Golden Eyes pushed past him, almost desperate to get away, before marching off to catch the last seat. He perched himself right by the window, his face looking strangely red, and Antonio realised with growing horror that he would have to sit next to Golden Eyes for the rest of the journey.

So he sat. Staring straight ahead at the backs of other people's heads, Antonio began counting the seconds. He couldn't sit here. He couldn't sit next to Golden Eyes. The other man was almost curled into himself, hugging his haversack like a puppy and creating as much distance as he could between himself and Antonio while sitting on the same bus seat.

Obviously, Antonio was embarrassing him somehow. (Why did he have to be so _stupid_?) He was probably betraying signs of nervousness. Maybe he accidentally did something to insult Golden Eyes (although really, what?). Perhaps he just looked like too much of an awkward loser and Lord Perfection here didn't like it.

Antonio sat there, silently torturing himself for the next five minutes.

Then, he recognised the beat slipping out of the boy's earphones. In the bus's confined space, he could hear it more clearly. Almost involuntarily, he started drumming his fingers on his thighs.

* * *

The Green Eyed Glory sitting next to Lovino was drumming his fingers on his thighs, bobbing his head just slightly. For a moment, Lovino thought the man was listening to music, but he wasn't wearing any earphones.

Then, it hit him.

The man was listening to music.

 _Lovino's music._

SHIT FUCKING GODDAMN FUCK.

Lovino was listening to Taylor Swift's _Shake It Off._

Oh no. Green Eyed Glory was listening to him listen to Taylor Swift.

Green Eyed Glory probably thought he was an idiot.

Who listened to Taylor Swift anymore anyway? Even Feli, who'd been her biggest fan, didn't listen to her anymore! And Lovino had made _such a show_ of disliking her in the past. (But what could he do if Taylor sang a song as cheerful and fun as _Shake It Off_? For heaven's sake, he was only human!)

* * *

The music suddenly stopped. The boy had ripped the earphones from his ears, pausing the song and staring gobsmacked at Antonio.

Oh no, no, no. They just looked at each other for three horrible seconds.

 _I am so, so sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your music, but Shake It Off is one of my favourite songs and you were listening to it so loudly, I could hear it through your earphones! But that's no excuse, you're right, I should just jump off a cliff and bury my head under a paper bag and never be allowed to interact with human beings ever again._

But Antonio didn't dare open his mouth to say any of that. It was as though he'd simply lost the ability to speak.

* * *

 _Fuck, fuck, listen, I hate Shake It Off. This song just came on my shuffle, my little sister borrows this phone, it's HER MUSIC, not mine! I, a nineteen-year-old male, would never listen to Taylor Swift, she's the singer antsy romance-obsessed teenage girls listen to. Look, I'm a fucking badass okay, you don't even know! I play Call of Duty and watch Game of Thrones and shit, I'm totally hardcore, STOP FUCKING STARING AT ME I AM GOING TO DIE._

Lovino just swallowed the monologue, blushed violently and stared out of the window, sinking in a horrified silence.

* * *

Three days into his internship, Lovino finally asked the question.

"Why is it called _Feliks' Lucky Glass Works_ , anyway?"

Feliks shrugged. "I dunno man, would you prefer it to be called _Feliks' Unlucky Glass Works_?" to which Lovino replied with a curt shake of the head.

Feliks seemed a bit mad. It wasn't that he wore women's clothes – Lovino actually thought he looked quite fabulous in them – it was how lackadaisical he was. Feliks spent most of his time watching football on the tiny TV hanging on the wall behind his desk at the cash counter. Whatever customers he had were managed by Emma, a hazel-haired woman a few years older than Lovino, and the stoic, terrifying Berwald, who usually blew most of the glass.

Learning glass blowing was rather scary at first. It was hot work, and Lovino almost burnt himself a couple of times. The equipment was heavyweight, and he wasn't even allowed to use half of them. So far Berwald – and a part-timer, Yao – had been helping Lovino learn the basic concepts.

Feliks, the man the shop was named after, didn't seem to do much. Still, he was perfectly likable, and Lovino actually found himself enjoying his strange new internship.

* * *

"Toni."

"Hmm."

"Tooooni?" France snapped his fingers in front of Antonio's face, breaking him from his reverie. They were in a café together, along with Gilbert, getting lunch. Since the three of them had found jobs, it was harder to meet, which sucked, but that was adulthood. Blinking, Antonio focused on his friend's blue eyes. He could see Gilbert looking at him too, curious and concerned.

"The hell were you daydreaming about?" Gil asked, taking a large bite of his apple pie.

"Sorry." Antonio rubbed his face. "Just tired. I haven't been getting much sleep."

Francis took an elegant little sip of his cappuccino. "Oh? Why's that?"

"Just commuting. I have to get up at five and I get home by ten." The Fernandes-Carriedo family usually ate dinner very late, so that wasn't the problem. Antonio was just getting tired and stressed. He was working as a graphic designer, which ideally shouldn't have been quite as demanding, but between the commute and the sheer disorganization of the company he worked with, everything just seemed a lot worse. His superiors never seemed to be in sync – his boss would say one thing, his boss's boss would say another, and Antonio would end up doing double the work.

He assumed that this was normal, and maybe since he was new to the workforce, he just wasn't used to it.

The only perk that got him out of bed every morning was the prospect of seeing Lord Golden Eyes at the final bus stop.

"The cutest guy travels with me in the last bus," Antonio suddenly blurted out. Confessions like these were rare for him – it deeply embarrassed him when Gilbert and Francis got into his love life, or lack thereof.

Francis seemed escatic at the confession. "Oh my god, really? What's he like? Have you spoken to him? Have you _slept_ with him? Tell me the deets, the _deets_ , Antonio!"

Meanwhile, Gilbert laughed. "Deets," he repeated, "that's an awesome word."

Ploughing through the heat on his face, Antonio continued, "I haven't spoken to him and I definitely haven't slept with him, Francis, my god."

"Then you should!"

"Sneak a picture," Gilbert suggested. "We want to see him."

"No! That's so creepy!"

"At least tell us what he looks like."

"Oh." That, Antonio could do. In enormous detail. He couldn't stop sneaking glances at the guy, his heart fluttering and his head hazy.

* * *

" _You haven't even SPOKEN to him?"_ Feli shrieked through the phone, his voice brimming with disapproval and actual disappointment. _"How long has it been?"_

"A month," Lovino muttered back face flushing. He never expected to tell Feli about his stupid crush on a complete stranger. Hell, he never expected to have a crush on someone he couldn't even speak to. But every weekday for the last month they'd been taking the same bus, usually sitting in different seats but also sometimes sharing one. Lovi would listen to his music on the softest possible volume (he'd downloaded some badass songs, like AC/DC and Queen, who he didn't like, but they had cool songs from manly bands). The stranger would read novels on his phone. That was it. The beginning and end of their interaction. Why was Lovino so fucking smitten? He didn't even know the guy's name. Hell, in all probability, the guy was some creepy pervert murderer.

" _So you're saying,"_ Feli began, his voice getting shriller and shriller (a miracle, because his voice was rather high already), _"you've been travelling with him every single day, and you don't even know his name?"_

"Uh, yeah…"

" _Wow, that's a bit rude."_

"Shut the hell up, nobody asked your opinion." Lovino moved from his bedroom to the kitchen to make himself some pasta, his phone still pressed in his ear. To change the subject, he quickly asked, "how's art school?"

" _Art school is so lovely! I'm learning a lot, and I've really understood my style and how to improve on it. And I've made such nice friends!"_

"Great." Lovino took out a saucepan and some tomatoes. He was happy for Feli, he really was.

" _But tell me about you! Mom told me you got some cool internship. I'm proud of you, I knew you'd get it."_

"It wasn't that difficult to get, Feli. I mean, I was the only applicant." It wasn't like there was a long line of people wanting to learn glass blowing, it wasn't like Lovino had received some huge scholarship. Not like his brother.

Feli giggled. _"Tell me about it anyway!"_

Sighing, Lovino replied, "I'm learning how to blow glass." His hands had become coarser because of it, and he had tiny burns on his wrists. Still, he was getting better at it each day and he could already make tiny glass figurines (with some help from Yao and Berwald.) He actually enjoyed going to work. It made him sweat, but he was learning a skill most people didn't even think about. That was always cool.

" _Wow, that sounds a bit dangerous! You mean like the glass blowers in Murano? When we went to Italy?"_

"Yeah, like that. It isn't dangerous…I mean, I got burnt a couple of times, but the people I'm working with guide me well so it's all right. All part of learning the trade."

" _So can you make figurines and jewelry and stuff?"_

"I know how!" Lovino replied, suddenly cheerful. "Jewelry is hard because it's so delicate, and I still need help with figurines, but I'm actually making stuff!" He grinned to himself, putting a pan full of pasta on the stove. "I was thinking of making something for mom for her birthday next month."

" _That would be so sweet. You should! I was thinking of making a painting for her."_

"Oh. Nice." Instantly, Lovino's good mood started to wilt.

" _Oh! You know what?"_ Feli cried. Lovino could hear his excitement through the phone. _"You should make your crush something too! A cute little figurine! It will be adorable. You can hand it to him and he'll say thank you and you'll say, it's nothing, and he'll say, you're hot, and you'll say, you're hot too! And then you'll get married."_

By the end of the monologue, Lovino was laughing so hard he had to step away from the stove and sit down at the dining table. "I don't think," he managed through splutters of mirth, "that's how it works."

The two of them laughed for a solid minute. Lovino felt so good, so warm, so upbeat. _"It's just a thought,"_ Feli said at last, breathless from the giggling.

"Yeah, but what a thought," Lovino replied, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: Lovino thinks music has genders, what an idiot.**

 **Thanks for reading! Please review :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: In which Lovi cleans his cabinets and Gilbert and Francis are the worst friends ever.**

* * *

Later that night, grandpa knocked on Lovino's door. He'd aged a lot in the last few years, and had started living with them full-time since his knee surgery. It was just better for everyone. Lovino's parents didn't have to constantly worry about him falling and lying unconscious for hours all alone, and the boys got to spend time with their grandpa for as long as they could. It was a great arrangement. Lovino was really fond of the man, who'd taught him how to cook and told the stupidest jokes and incredibly, had Instagram on his phone. For his age, grandpa remained young and active, walking wherever he went and keeping up with all the latest internet slang.

Lovino was standing on a wooden stool, cleaning out his cabinets when his grandfather peered in. Lovi paused as he pulled out a stack of unused encyclopaedias, dropping them lazily on the floor and watching as their pages crumpled and spines twisted. His bedroom really needed a remodelling. It was exactly as it had been when he was a kid, with bright yellow walls and a blue wardrobe. His toy chest had been replaced with a study desk, movie posters – _The Breakfast Club, The Godfather –_ hung on walls, but otherwise, it was very much a child's room.

"Did you speak to Feli today?" his grandfather asked, smiling through golden eyes and wrinkles. He sat at the end of Lovino's bed. "He's having such a good time at art school."

"Mmh, yeah," Lovino replied, noncommittal, as he plunged back into his cabinets to pull out old school books. His hands found a set of dried poster paints, along with a damaged paint brush. He dropped them to the floor as well.

"Stop throwing things," his grandfather reprimanded. Lovino rolled his eyes.

"This is garbage. The books and stuff I'll give to a homeless shelter, but everything else can be dumped."

His grandfather stood, approaching him. His eyes, sharp as ever, were at the floor, silently analysing every piece of 'garbage'. Lovino rolled his eyes again. "What?"

"Young man," his grandfather said imperiously, "this isn't garbage." He bent down and picked up a crumpled piece of paper, perhaps a hundred years old. The pencil lines and colours had faded, stained with dust and neglect. It was a kindergartener drawing of a puppy in a park.

"Tsk. Throw it away."

" _Lovino._ " His grandfather straightened, looking at him severely. Lovino shut his mouth, colour rising to his cheeks.

"I remember this day," his grandfather continued. "You boys had to draw a dream pet, isn't it?"

"Feli drew a cat on a leash," Lovi replied automatically, stepping off the stool. He didn't want to look at the drawing in his grandfather's hands, but he couldn't help himself. It really was atrocious, childish, ugly.

His grandfather's smile was distant and satisfied. "Ah, yes he did. But I don't remember you showing me this."

 _That's because you didn't want to see it._ Lovino didn't say that. It was rude. "I guess I forgot."

"It's funny, I always thought you liked art," his grandfather mused, putting the drawing on the desk with utmost care. "But you just gave it up eventually…I remember how you used to pester your parents to get you art supplies. It was adorable. And you'd get so mad when Feli borrowed yours."

Lovino balled his fists, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out to calm himself. "You've always liked Feli's art more." Then Lovino said, "Fuck," because he didn't mean to say that out loud.

His grandfather looked utterly stricken. Eyes widening in shock, he opened his mouth to say something, anything, and then closed it again. "You really think so?" he finally managed. Lovino wanted to kick himself. He didn't want to hurt his grandpa's feelings, for heaven's sake. He should have just kept his stupid face shut.

"No," Lovi quickly replied, and then, because it felt inadequate, forced, he added, "No, I'm just being spiteful." At least there was an element of truth in that.

"Lovi, you never even showed me your art," his grandfather said, sounding hurt. "Anytime I asked to see it you'd tell me it was stupid and hide it away."

Lovino didn't show anyone his art. In the days when he used to draw and paint, he'd hide it all, he never even showed Feli. It was never as good as his brother's. It was just so damn humiliating. Feli was just naturally good at everything. He was born special.

"Just because Feli's good at something, doesn't mean you aren't." His grandfather's words seemed to cut through Lovino's mind. His stare, astute and firm, just reminded Lovi of the man his grandpa was, and all the cool things he'd done. He could read Lovino like a book sometimes. Now, he pulled out the chair by the study desk and sat down. "You always compare yourself to him, don't you?"

Lovino swallowed. "It's hard not to. He's perfect."

"Not at all. He's flaky. Forgets to tie his shoelaces. Forgets to take his wallet with him. Last week he had to spend the night at his friend's house because he forgot his room keys." Grandpa gave Lovi a pointed look. "I _worry_ about him sometimes. In a way I never have to worry about you, because you handle yourself well."

"That's – " he'd heard that ridiculous room key story too. "That's just how prodigies are. Flaky."

"He's no prodigy, he's worked very hard for what he's achieved."

Like Lovino didn't know that.

"But," his grandfather added, "it doesn't mean you haven't either."

"I haven't achieved shit." Swearing in front of his grandpa had never been a problem. His parents always told him off for his language, but grandpa never did.

"Roll up your sleeves."

"What?"

"Roll up your sleeves."

Sighing, Lovino did has he was told, rolling up his sleeves up to his elbows. His palms and wrists had tiny blisters and burns on them, nothing too serious, but they still occasionally stung and he had to keep putting cream on them to help them heal. "All right, I know what you're getting at." Lovino blushed again. "You made your point."

"No, I don't think I have." His grandpa looked severe again. "You keep going to that internship even though you get hurt, and you know why? Because it gives you something to do and it makes you happy, and it's a good outlet for all that mad creative talent that flows through you. So stop being so embarrassed and apologetic about everything you create, because I have _two_ brilliant grandsons, thank you _very_ much."

With that he stood, turning to leave. "And clean up that mess on your floor, your mother will have a fit."

* * *

 **Antonio: Hey, Franny?  
Antonio: I just had a thought**

 **Francis: oui?**

 **Antonio: WHAT IF HE ISN'T GAY.**

 **Gilbert: he was listening to taylor swift  
** **Gilbert: he's pretty gay**

 **Francis: Hahahahahah**

 **Antonio: -.-  
** **Antonio: Gilbert that's rude  
** **Antonio: I mean I've also seen him listening to Queen**

 **Gilbert: OMG Queen is the gayest shit ever  
** **Gilbert: Freddie Mercury is SO GAY  
** **Gilbert: and the band  
** **Gilbert: is literally called  
** **Gilbert: QUEEN.**

 **Francis: oh mon dieu hahahaha  
** **Francis: yes Gil's right about Queen  
** **Francis: but back to the point**

 **Antonio: Gil shut the hell up  
** **Antonio: Look guys seriously, if I flirt with him and he tells me he isn't gay  
** **Antonio: I will actually drop dead from embarrassment.**

 **Francis: Toni sweetie  
** **Francis: The awkward, stuttering gibberish you call flirting makes ME drop dead from embarrassment.**

 **Gilbert: HAHAHA XDDD**

 **Antonio: I hate you guys  
** **Antonio: good night**

 **Francis: hahaha  
** **Francis: no no Toni come back :P**

 **Gilbert: brooooo  
** **Gilbert: seriously bro you shouldn't worry about this stuff  
** **Gilbert: ANTONIO  
** **Gilbert: ANT  
** **Gilbert: TOE  
** **Gilbert: NEO  
** **Gilbert: ANT TOE NEO CAME BACK**

 **Antonio: what.**

 **Francis: Look who cares if he isn't gay?  
** **Francis: He can't help his sexuality, whatever it may be, so there's no point worrying about it  
** **Francis: As long as he isn't a homophobic asshole, you're okay.**

 **Antonio: I'm sure he isn't homophobic…**

 **Gilbert: how do you know?**

 **Antonio: because I love him. C:**

 **Gilbert: YOU HAVEN'T EVEN SPOKEN TO HIM**

 **Francis: L'amour needs no language**

 **Antonio: yeah, l'amour needs no language**

 **Gilbert: is that why you're saying that in French**

 **Francis: well I am french**

 **Antonio: And I totally COULD be french if I wanted  
** **Antonio: Antoine**

 **Gilbert: I prefer Ant Toe Neo**

 **Francis: actually so do I.**

* * *

Antonio was ready. He'd been preparing himself since he woke up. He'd been practicing in his head during the other two bus rides. He could do this. Simple. When he saw the other boy, he'd walk up to him, cool, suave – he'd slicked back his hair with gel borrowed from his brother, because cool people wore gel. He was wearing a black shirt, the first button open at the top. He'd polished his shoes. Henrique had burst out laughing when he saw Antonio, but Antonio had told him exactly what he could stuff up his ass (which made him laugh harder, but whatever). _Francis_ swore by this style, and he was sleeping around with literally everyone, so it must work.

So Antonio would see the other boy, swagger up to him and ask, "Hey, how you doin'?" like Joey in F.R.I.E.N.D.S. And Joey always got the girls, so it must work.

(Even though, deep down in his heart where his deepest fears lay, Antonio was convinced he looked like an idiot.)

But Francis swore by this style.

So it would be fine. Francis was always right about these things.

Both his friends kept blowing up his phone with messages of support and friendly ragging (mostly the latter). He'd stopped replying to them. It was distracting him.

He got off his second bus and then walked around the block to the third one, where the Almost Roman God was standing, listening to his music, staring at his phone. His head shot up as though hit by electricity when Antonio approached, and when he turned to look at him, all colour seemed to drain from his face.

What? Why? Why did this guy look like he was about to pass out or something?

The boy's golden eyes suddenly hardened a little, and he raised both eyebrows questioningly towards Antonio, pointedly looking him up and down. Then, with a definitive, smooth movement, he looked away, first to the side, then to his phone, and Antonio thought he might throw up from mortification. Any ideas of talking or flirting with him vanished.

Antonio waited for the bus to arrive, and in the privacy of an empty seat (the other boy very pointedly sat in the opposite row, next to an old lady), Antonio quietly buttoned up the rest of his shirt. He still couldn't fix his hair. There was just too much gel in it.

* * *

 **Antonio: francis  
** **Antonio: actually fuck off**

 **Francis: ! What happened?**

 **Antonio: he gave me a weird look because of how I'm dressed, which was YOUR IDEA, and now he's ignoring me**

 **Gilbert: don't tell me I didn't warn you  
** **Gilbert: I TOLD you following Francis's fashion advice would get you killed  
** **Gilbert: and when you sent that selfie I TOLD YOU that you looked like douchebag  
** **Gilbert: LET THE RECORD STATE THAT I WARNED YOU.**

 **Francis: omg that should not happen.  
** **Francis: clearly this person isn't gay at all  
** **Francis: because YOU LOOK HOT AND HE CAN'T RECOGNISE THAT.**

 **Gilbert: FRANCIS HE LOOKED PUNCHABLE  
** **Gilbert: IF I DIDN'T KNOW HIM, AND HE APPROACHED ME DRESSED LIKE THAT  
** **Gilbert: I WOULD HIT HIM IN THE TEETH**

 **Francis: Hmm  
** **Francis: maybe it was the hair gel. Maybe you shouldn't have put so much**

 **Antonio: You insisted I put more and more!  
** **Antonio: I'm not good at this stuff Francis I depend on you D:  
** **Antonio: I TRUSTED YOU  
** **Antonio: YOU WERE MY BROTHER**

 **Gilbert: Oh crap he's going Obi-wan Kenobi on you**

 **Francis: lol  
** **Francis: Sorry toni  
** **Francis: we'll try again tomorrow :)**

 **Antonio: no, i'm done taking advice from you francis!  
** **Antonio: I hate you guys  
** **Antonio: good bye**

 **Gilbert: what did I do?**

 **Antonio: I don't know I just hate everyone right now  
** **Antonio: bye**

* * *

Lovino entered the glass workshop with a little more fire this morning. He was oddly chipper. Mostly because the hot guy with the green eyes looked like an actual cartoon today, and sorry, but it was funny. Probably wasn't nice to laugh at him, but really, why did he dress up like that? Who could he possibly be meeting today that he had to slick back is lovely, feathery-soft looking brown hair so much it looked like a goddamn oil spill in the ocean?

He was also happier today because of the strange conversation with his grandfather last night. Even though grandpa was telling him off, not coddling him. But...well...Lovino had been thinking about what he'd said, and yeah, grandpa was probably a little right. Lovino did sell himself short. Maybe because he didn't know what he was even worth? From childhood he'd just decided Feli was the better twin, but really, who else thought so? Their parents always got on Feli's case for a lot of things - not cleaning up after making dinner, forgetting to turn off the lights after leaving the room, insisting on eating nothing but pasta for days on end - it wasn't like they treated Feli like a special creature, God's gift to the family. They nagged Feli. They told him off when he deserved it. They yelled at him when he painted instead of studying for exams. They were still extremely proud of him, but, Lovino had to concede, they never played favourites.

They were very happy when Lovi got his internship, even though he kept insisting that he'd done nothing much to get it, except for showing up. They always asked him if he was enjoying it, what he was learning, and if his burns hurt too much. They were eager to see the things he was working on, even if it wasn't as good as a professional's. They thought his internship was unusual and cool and they kept encouraging him.

Lovino had just been...stuck in his own head, in his own stupid insecurities. On some level he'd always known that. He'd made the discomfort and sadness his home, even though, quite clearly, he didn't enjoy it. It was easy, but ease was a thing to be wary of. Ease made you complacent. Ease made people boring.

Perhaps it was this newfound flicker of confidence that brought him straight to the first glass blower he saw - Yao. "Can you help me make a figurine? Like a little glass animal or something? I don't know how to do it alone."

Yao just nodded. "Sure. If it's good, maybe Feliks might even sell it."

Lovino's heart swooped with excitement. "Thanks."

"What kind of animal were you thinking of?"

Lovino hummed. "Maybe a horse?"

"Horses are beautiful," Yao agreed with a big smile. "It'll be a bit of work, but let's start."

* * *

 **A/N: So…uh…this is going to be four chapters long, not a three-shot. Or maybe five chapters.** _ **I don't know**_ **! Clearly, I haven't planned this as well as I should have -** **hides face** **.-**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Oh my gooooooooddddddddddddd. I** _ **finally**_ **finished writing (or rather, RE-writing) my novel a couple of days ago, and now I don't know what to do with myself. Actually, that's not true. I've got to update fanfictions, I'm taking part in MakoHaru Week 2016, I'm working on another original story…I mean, I have things planned, but now that my novel is done, I'm like…experiencing withdrawal symptoms or something, hahaha.**

 **You think I planned to start writing this chapter at 11.50 pm, Indian Standard Time? No, I'm in bed, supposed to be asleep, BUT GUESS WHAT, THE PLOT BUNNIES ARE AWAKE.**

 **Okay. I gotta just calm down and get on with it. Sigh…**

 **Also, I just realised I've done a cultural fuck-up. In India it's pretty normal for adult children to live with their parents until they get married, but I realise that's actually not normal in the West.** _ **How could I make such a simple mistake. Ugh.**_ **So in his fic, Antonio and Henrique still live with their parents. Okay, whatever. Let's just assume they can't afford their own houses because the economy is terrible and the world is going to end.**

* * *

"Lovi!" his mother cried as he was helping her set the table. "What is that?" Before he could stop her, she snatched his arm up, inspecting his skin with a frown that would make a supervillain proud.

"Mom, knock it off!" He tried to shrug her off. Difficult, considering he had a ceramic plate in his currently incapacitated hand, and any movement might cause it to slip and break. "It's nothing! I'm fine! _God._ "

All right, so maybe that was a half-truth. He'd been making that stupid horse figurine today at work and the burn he got from not paying attention to the machinery was bad enough that they told him to take an hour off. It was a long red mark that hurt like fucking hell. Lovino hadn't been trying to hide it – he would have worn full-sleeves otherwise. Still, he hadn't expected his mom to make such a big deal of it.

His father and grandfather walked into the kitchen now, ready for dinner. They raised their eyebrows when they saw Lovi and his mom like that, and then his _father_ started getting on his case.

"Is that another burn? It looks bad, Lovi."

"Oh my god, I'm fine!" Yanking his arm from his mother's grip, he continued laying plates and setting glasses. "I was working on something new today, and Yao gave me instructions, but I didn't follow them quite right."

His grandfather poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle at the table, sipped it slowly, and then asked, "what are you working on, Lovi?"

Lovino couldn't help but give him the briefest of smiles. He wasn't sure they were on friendly terms yet…but Lovino had needed a reality check. He was still turning ideas over in his mind, but on some level, he'd changed since last night. It wasn't a very dramatic transformation. He was still the same: acerbic, cynical, somewhat insecure. But Lovino was starting to think that maybe…just maybe, he was _more_ than that. He wasn't sure how yet, but he'd figure it out eventually. He was in no hurry.

"I'm trying to make a little horse figurine."

In his head, he could see it very clearly. It would be a transparent glass horse, but with melted pieces of orange and blue and yellow inside it, like Italian Murano glass. He _loved_ Murano glass. It looked as though it was a universe of its own, holding little colourful secrets that a person could only admire from afar, and never touch.

"Wow, let's see it!" his grandpa replied, tone light.

Lovino's lips twisted. "It's a mess. It doesn't even look like a horse."

"Go get it," his father urged as he took a helping of lasagna for himself.

Sighing, Lovino darted up to his room and returned moments later with a horse small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. The head was at a strange angle, and only vaguely triangular. The back legs were enormous. The front legs were needles in comparison.

Without warning, Lovino's grandfather started to laugh.

For a moment, Lovino thought he might panic and cry, but something inside him snapped and he burst out laughing as well.

"That looks like an alien with leprosy," his grandfather commented, still chortling.

"It really does," Lovino agreed cheerfully before digging into dinner.

* * *

Five thirty am was just too early to eat, but usually Antonio at least had a cup of coffee before flying off to work. Coffee was essential, it kept him alert and active until he grabbed a croissant at a more reasonable hour. This morning, however, he just stirred his cup, exhausted and uninterested, as he stared into space.

The kitchen was completely silent. Of course his parents were asleep, but sometimes – rarely – his brother Henrique would be awake (he worked night shifts as a doctor and come home around this time). Sometimes they sat together until Antonio had to leave and Henrique had to sleep out of sheer exhaustion. Today, though, his brother had gone to bed as soon as he got home, and Antonio sat here all alone.

He loved quiet places. Was that because he was a shy person? Or was it because silence in general was something so personal? To be quiet and alone: that was when he could think his own thoughts and do his own things, away from all the constraints and expectations society put on him. In the days before he came out to his friends and family, Antonio would lie on his bed, in his room, in total silence and just… _think._ Sometimes it made him anxious, but sometimes, it also calmed him down.

The metallic sounds of his spoon touching the cup, the hum of the refrigerator, the sound of an occasionally passing car or barking dog…it was all bliss.

Except.

Except for the fact that Antonio couldn't even stand the smell of his coffee this morning, lot less the taste.

Except for the fact that he had this godawful headache.

* * *

 **Francis: hello hello my friends  
** **Francis: it's tiiiiime for "Flirting With Hot Stranger Part Deux"**

 **Gilbert: ugh francis shut up it's too early**

 **Francis: Today we're going for the NATURAL look. Antonio, hear that? Just dress as you normally would  
** **Francis: even if you lack any fashion sense**

 **Gilbert: hey man it's like 6 in the morning I'm not even awake yet can you stop blowing up my phone with your bs**

 **Francis: Put it on silent I don't care  
** **Francis: this is about LOVE.**

 **Gilbert: I would LOVE for you to personally message Toni and not put all this on the group chat because I am still sleepy**

 **Francis: toni, next we're going to work on your opening lines  
** **Francis: it's gotta be…something cool  
** **Francis: funny and cute**

 **Gilbert: ugh**

 **Antonio: hey francis  
** **Antonio: I'm with gil on this rn  
** **Antonio: sorry but…not today  
** **Antonio: I'm not in the mood  
** **Antonio: but we can chat if you like :) what's up**

 **Gil: what's up with YOU**

 **Francis: oui what's up toni**

 **Antonio: I have the worst headache and like 500 things to do at work today**

 **Gilbert: that sucks! Same. Minus the headache  
** **Gilbert: actually no, I don't have much to do today. just one thing  
** **Gilbert: actually I'm completely free  
** **Gilbert: hahahaha loserz**

 **Francis: oh get lost gilbert**

* * *

The handsome stranger didn't look so hot today. (A pun? Was that a _pun_? Lovi would have to remember that one to tell Feli later. His brother loved puns.) Lovino saw Mr Green Eyes walk towards the bus stop, his (thankfully gel-free) hair a mess, startling dark circles around his eyes. He looked very…crumpled, somehow, despite his ironed shirt and trousers.

Their eyes met for a moment, as it often happened these days. They knew each other by face. It was just expected now: to see the other person at this bus stop, neither of them saying hello, neither of them smiling at each other. The man looked towards Lovino, and then looked away, sighing and raising a hand to his head, as though he was going to ruffle his own hair. He ended up pressing his fingers into his scalp, and Lovino tore his eyes away. _Oh, I see,_ he thought to himself, _you've got a headache._

In his mind, Lovino could picture himself breaking out into conversation. He often imagined himself speaking to random people. Folks in class who he thought were interesting. A mother and her cute baby in the supermarket. Hot Mr Green Eyes. He never actually worked up the courage to do it, but mentally, he could talk to them for hours.

 _I'm sorry you feel like shit. There's a pharmacy not far from here. You should get some aspirin. Why do you have a headache anyway? Migraines? My brother gets migraines, they don't sound like fun. Oh, how's your eyesight? Maybe you need glasses. Or maybe you're coming down with something. When I got the flu a while ago, I had this godawful headache and I thought I was going to die. It sucks. You should've just stayed at home, stupid._

But maybe none of that would have done any good. For headaches, nothing helped like silence. Lovino lowered the volume of his music, just to ensure the sounds weren't spilling out of his earphones again. It was the best he could do.

* * *

"I've got to try this horse-shit again," Lovino told Berwald, mentally noting that he'd made another pun. Perhaps not one Feli would appreciate, but whatever. Berwald blinked at him, languid, through his spectacles and just nodded.

"'Kay."

It was hard to figure out what Berwald was saying half the time. He spoke so little, anyway. Lovino wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, it took away the expectation to keep talking, but on the other, the silence between them could last for hours. Lovino didn't like _that_ either. He never knew what Berwald was thinking, he never felt confident asking him for advice or help.

Feliks had told him Berwald was the shy sort too. So maybe Berwald could empathise with Lovino a little bit.

Today, Feliks was wearing the hottest, reddest pair of high heels. They drew Lovino's attention instantly, because the rest of his clothes were so drab (Feliks never looked good in a boring pair of jeans and a t-shirt.)

"Nice shoes," Lovino muttered. _Clack-clack-clack_ , they went as Feliks walked past him, carefully dusting each of the glass items in his store.

"Thanks. I borrowed them from Emma." He half-turned, giving Lovino a teasing wink. "I borrow a lot of her clothes."

"And you stretch them out," Emma complained, coming out from the back of the store with another dusting cloth in hand.

"I'm thinking I should get some red lipstick to match these shoes," Feliks went on, ignoring her. "What do you think, Lovino?"

"Um." He glanced towards Emma, who just shrugged. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it…?"

"I think I will." Feliks grinned to himself. "Red lipstick is the best, Lovino, trust me. Makes your whole face look more alive."

Lovino had to admit he had some grudging respect for Feliks. He could never hope to be half as self-confident as him. A lot of people gave Feliks strange looks, but he never seemed to notice or care. If Lovino was in his place, he would have internally died three hundred times.

"I want to make a little horse figurine," he said, to remind himself of why he was even in the main store and not the workshop. "And would it be okay if I make some jewelry and stuff for my mom? Her birthday is coming up."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "You…want to make personal items during work hours with our raw materials and machinery?"

"That's why I _asked._ " Lovino swallowed to control a growing mountain of shame. "Yao tried to help me make a horse yesterday but it was an ugly mess so he let me take it home."

Feliks, dusting the curves of a glass tsunami the size of a fist, just sighed. "I mean, it's not what a traditional business would allow, Vargas." His eyes met Emma's, and they seemed to have a long, silent conversation. Finally, Feliks turned and looked at Lovino. "But…sure, I guess. I like you. So I don't mind. As long as you don't use up too much stuff and you keep up with what you're actually supposed to be doing. What does Berwald say about it?"

"Nothing? But Yao's cool with it."

Feliks chewed his lower lip. "Business _is_ booming…so…all right. I'll allow it."

"Really?" Lovino's eyes widened. "Wow. Thanks, Feliks, you're the best."

Feliks winked again. "Don't you forget it."

* * *

"Why are you so fixed on a horse anyway?" Yao asked when he finally came in for work and Lovino filled him in. Berwald was making a vase. Lovino kept glancing his way to watch.

To Yao, he replied, "they're very pretty."

Yao snorted. "Yeah, but that's why they're tricky. Have you _seen_ a horse? They're all muscle and curves and bones and you have to get that _just right_. You should try something simpler if you're starting out."

No. Lovino didn't want simple. In his head, he wanted a glass horse and that was what he would make. Yao seemed to read that determination on his face because he just sighed, tying his ponytail into a bun. "Fine. I did say I'd help you. Let's try making this horse again."

* * *

 **Francis: helloooo**

 **Francis: how's your headache?**

 **Antonio: it's gone! :) I'm just really tired**

 **Gilbert: you're not getting enough sleep  
Gilbert: you should find a job closer to home**

 **Antonio: I KNOW RIGHT  
** **Antonio: I'm not even gonna deny it  
** **Antonio: but like I just started, I can't quit now  
** **Antonio: that's lame  
** **Antonio: I SHALL OVERCOME! *war face***

 **Francis: toni  
Francis: how much coffee did you just drink**

 **Antonio: idk? like 4 cups maybe  
Antonio: oh I get what you mean hahahahahaha  
** **Antonio: dios mio I need to sleep…**

 **Gilbert: guys, guys  
Gilbert: you wanna know what I did today?**

 **Francis: what?**

 **Antonio: what did you do? :D**

 **Gilbert: NOTHING.**

 **Francis: -.-**

 **Antonio: YOU SUCK GILBERT  
** **Antonio: DON'T YOU HAVE A JOB**

 **Gilbert: yeah I do  
Gilbert: at my dad's company lolololol  
Gilbert: so I can do what I want lolololol**

 **Antonio: ASS**

 **Gilbert: DON'T USE CAPITAL LETTERS ON ME SONNY BOI**

 **Francis: Boi? BOI?  
** **Francis: you mean, DAT BOI**

 **Antonio: O SHIT WADDUP!**

 **Gilbert: kill that meme**

* * *

Antonio turned the key and barged into his house, wired from coffee and lack of sleep. "HERE COME DAT BOI!" he yelled for no apparent reason.

His parents, setting the dinner table, turned. "What?" his mother asked.

Henrique burst out from the depths of the kitchen and shouted, "O SHIT WADDUP?"

* * *

 **A/N: I have no excuse, I'm sorry. This chapter just went away from me.**

 **It's funny because this fic was initially planned to be a one-shot, then a three-shot, then a four-chapter fic, and now I don't know.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am a big fan of supportive families.**

* * *

 **Antonio: honest to god  
** **Antonio: i hate my parents**

 **Francis: !?  
Francis: oh no toni what happened**

 **Gilbert: did you guys have a fight?  
Gilbert: what happened bruder?**

* * *

What happened? _What happened?_

They dragged him to a party.

Antonio wasn't inherently abhorrent to parties. He and his friends were invited to a lot of them. And in small amounts, they were fun! But Antonio never just 'got ready' for parties, did he? No, he had to _prepare himself_ for a party. Or any social event. He had to be mentally ready to take them on. He needed prior notice. Spontaneous plans were not his thing. Had never been.

Besides, he was exhausted, sleepless, stressed. Work had been killing him. He had fantasied about going home and crashing to his bed without even dinner. He just needed to sleep…So of course, the moment he got home (it was 10.00 pm!) he found his whole family in their best clothes. His mother was pinning a dangling diamond earring to herself. Antonio had just blinked.

"Toni, go get ready. We're going out."

"What? No! I don't want to."

"He looks fine," his father had said, "just wash your face and wear a blazer. You can come in your work clothes."

"Where?" Antonio had cried in rising panic.

"Mr and Mrs Duncan? From dad's work?" Henrique came down the stairs straightening his tie. There was a crease between his eyebrows that suggested that he didn't want to do this either. "They're having an anniversary party. It's going to go on all night or something. We were waiting for you to come home."

Antonio just blinked. "Don't you have _work_?" Henrique ran the night shift at his hospital, right? What the hell was he doing getting ready for a party?

"I'll stay for like half an hour and go from there." He rubbed his eyes, clearly just as tired as Antonio felt. These days Henrique had been spending a lot of time driving around looking for apartments. Since he'd saved up enough money to finally leave…

Antonio would never admit how he was going to miss his brother. No way.

"Stop staring and go get ready, dipshit," Henrique snapped. All of Antonio's mild, sibling-irritation came back in full force, and he stormed up the stairs, grumbling to himself in Spanish.

He didn't want to go. He didn't. Want. To. Go.

"Stop whining," he told himself before splashing some water on his face. "There'll be food." But if this wasn't enough indication that he had to move out pronto, nothing else could be.

In the back seat of the car, he and Henrique sat in silence: full of empathy and understanding, since both of them were irritated. Their parents, uncaring, chatted away. Henrique kept checking his phone for the time. Antonio texted his friends.

* * *

By the time they arrived, the party was in full swing. Well, it was an old-people party, so by old-people standards, it was _in full swing._ The guests were all in the garden, drinking champagne and eating petite food. Some of them were drunk-dancing to awful, awful oldies music. (Maybe Antonio was being too… _millennial_ , about this. But he was irritated and tired and didn't want to socialise, so fuck everyone else and their stupid Donny Osmond bullshit.)

Instead, he flopped down at the nearest empty table with a plateful of canapés and other hors d'oeuvres, glugged down a glass of wine with absolutely no class whatsoever, and bitched.

 **Antonio: I S2G they do this on purpose to bug me  
Antonio: like i've spent all day trying to mediate between my boss and her boss  
Antonio: IDK THEY CAN'T AGREE ON ANYTHING I HATE THIS JOB SO MUCH  
** **Antonio: like I don't even want to go to work tomorrow seakfhkjfhksj**

 **Francis: aw toni**

 **Gilbert: dont go**

 **Antonio: I HAVE TO BECAUSE I'M NEW THERE  
Antonio: I cant be a lil bitch about this  
Antonio: no matter HOW MUCH i want to**

 **Francis: Think of the positives**

 **Antonio: LIKE WHAT**

 **Francis: you get to see the hot stranger at the bus stop** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

Antonio had to give Francis that one. But even the prospect of seeing the pretty boy at the bus stop these days just made Antonio feel shy and horrible and ashamed. The truth was that if you just stood awkwardly next to a person every day for a month, it became even more awkward to suddenly start conversation. Antonio was trapped. What was this? A Catch-22? Yeah! To not appear awkward, he had to start a conversation, but now, starting a conversation would be awkward.

Yes. A Catch-22. (Finally, a real-life scenario to use this phrase.)

"Well, don't you look ready to punch someone," Henrique mused, coming up from behind Antonio with a glass of water in his hand. Of course, _he_ couldn't drink. He had to go to work in like twenty minutes.

Sitting down next to Antonio, his brother took an elegant sip from his glass. " _Sup_?" He said it in this slow, exaggerated, painful way. _Suuuuuuuuuup?_

"Fuck off, Henrique," Antonio said without any real energy as he popped another canapé into his mouth.

His brother just laughed, taunting, before stealing a cocktail sausage off Antonio's plate. "Wow, you are really pissy right now."

He didn't deign to reply to that, instead choosing to sit in an irritated, heavy silence.

"Want to go home?"

"Yes," Antonio retorted, his tone biting.

"I was going to call a cab to take me to the hospital. You can hitch a ride with me, I'll drop you home."

What. Antonio turned his head to stare at his brother, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. "Why are you being nice to me? What do you want?"

His brother grinned, flashing his perfect teeth. In that moment, Antonio actually saw the similarities between them. Everybody said they looked almost like twins, but Antonio had always denied it. Now, however, it was painfully obvious.

"You've been tired lately. I've noticed," was all he replied with, picking off a slice of tomato from Antonio's plate. "Kinda worried, actually. I really would not recommend powering through a cold or something – there's a flu virus in the air. I don't want you dying of a fever because—" perhaps realizing he was getting too sentimental and friendly, Henrique rapidly added, "—because that would be an inconvenience to mom. She needs help with the chores." His green eyes twinkled in humour again. Antonio glared, but his gaze drifted away.

"Don't be all Dr. Fernandez on me."

"Don't be a little whiny pig, okay? You tend to do that. Push through until you pass out. I think you feel like you have something to prove. Remember sixth grade? You fainted in the middle of gym class and –"

"Shut _upppp_ ," Antonio snapped, covering his ears. Henrique, the asshole, laughed again. Who could forget sixth grade? They called Henrique out of biology class to deal with Antonio and then their mother went into hysterics. It wasn't a good day. Kind of funny, though, in hindsight.

"I won't until you admit it," Henrique replied in a sing-song voice.

Antonio head was starting to hurt. He rolled his eyes. That didn't help. "Yeah. All right. So I'm a bit sleep-deprived."

"Aha!" his brother cried cheerfully, taking the last canapé off the plate. "I knew it."

"Get me more canapés, you hogged all of them."

"No."

" _Get me more canapés._ "

" _No_ – and that's a Spanish _no._ "

"Fuck you."

"Clever."

"Ugh!" and Antonio fell back into silence, this time angrier and snarlier and bitchier than he had been only moments ago. And then, because rage took too much energy, he just deflated, sinking his chin to the table and letting his arms sprawl in front of him.

"Very nice," he heard Henrique comment from somewhere above him, sarcastic as ever. When Antonio didn't stir, he added, "fine, shithead, I'll get you more canapés. Spare me the drama, Jesus." He got up then, and Antonio raised his head to watch him go towards the buffet table and pick out some more food. In the distance, their parents were jiving together to some obscure monstrosity of a song Antonio hoped to never hear again.

Henrique returned. Antonio ate a devilled egg. He was aware of his brother watching him, waiting. As much as Antonio hated it, he had to admit Henrique sort of knew him. He seemed to know when to speak up, and when to sit quietly and let Antonio talk. This was a learned skill, of course. Before Antonio, bold, open, extroverted Henrique had never encountered a shy introvert.

Antonio was going to kill himself about this later. "I don't know how to flirt."

The statement took Henrique so off guard, he actually jerked his head forward, blinking rapidly and then opening his mouth. Amazing. Antonio had actually made his brother speechless.

"That was not what I was expecting to hear tonight," Henrique replied after a moment. Mercifully, however, he didn't sound teasing. He seemed…genuinely intrigued.

A rush of heat on Antonio's cheeks made him turn away and hide his face in his hand. "This was a terrible idea. Forget it. Leave me alone."

"No, no, no!" On a mission now, Henrique stifled a small laugh. "It's okay! Tell me more! Who do you want to flirt with?"

"Lower your voice!" Antonio hissed, glaring.

"Oh, who can hear anything above this crappy music?" Still, Henrique spoke in a softer tone. "Who? Who? Tell _me_! The deets, the deets!"

What was with this word, _deets_? Francis had used it too.

"It's just…" Antonio wanted to say, _it's just some guy at one of my bus stops_ , but he couldn't. Even though he was out to his family now, talking about his romantic life or his very gay crushes was embarrassing. (Would he be this shy about his attractions if he were straight? Was he, perhaps, slightly ashamed of his sexuality? Antonio thought about these things all the time, and the answers only served to confuse him further.) "Some…person…" he finished inelegantly, lowering his gaze.

"Do I know him?" Henrique pressed on, undeterred.

"No." Pausing, Antonio added, "hell, _I_ don't know him."

"You haven't even talked to him?"

God, Antonio hated extroverts sometimes. No, he hated _bold_ people. Extroverts and otherwise. He knew people who were quiet and reclusive but could still speak their minds. Why couldn't Antonio be one of them? Why did he have to be shy? It was such a pain! It was even worse that some people found it so easy – _you haven't even talked to him?_

Talking was hard.

Antonio couldn't explain why.

It just was.

"No," he replied, his voice holding more force than necessary. "And I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't know what to say."

Henrique considered this for a moment, taking a small sip of water. His eyes were faraway. Antonio couldn't pin point where exactly his gaze had landed. Finally, after almost twenty seconds, his brother said, "FYI: I don't think flirting is quite your style. _I_ flirt. Your shithead friends Gilbert and Francis flirt. But that's not very _you._ "

"Thanks, Freud," Antonio replied dryly.

His brother laughed. "Have you considered just saying hi? No tricks or games? _Hi, I'm Antonio, I'm kind of shy and I've been wanting to talk to you for a while_ …something like that."

Antonio just stared at him.

Henrique waggled his eyebrows. "Consider it." Checking the time on his phone, he added, "I have to leave. Coming?"

* * *

 _Hi. I'm Antonio. I've been trying to talk to you for a while, but I'm shy…_

(What next? What next?)

Hi. I'm _. Nice to meet you, Antonio. (Maybe shake hands? They could shake hands, right?)

 _Nice to finally talk to you, _! I'm sorry, I'm just sort of reserved, I guess. I'm not good at this kind of thing._

That's okay, Antonio. You're doing fine.

(THIS WOULD NOT HAPPEN. THIS SOOOOO WOULD NOT HAPPEN.)

…

Antonio gave up trying to picture the conversation in his head. He just buried his chin in his blanket and hoped he could get some sleep.

* * *

It was three days later. They still didn't speak.

* * *

Lovino had done it. Sure, he had some five hundred little burns and bruises, but he had _succeeded._ In the palm of his hand was a little glass horse. Transparent on the outside, with little pieces of orange and blue inside. Glass trapped in glass. It was perfect.

"It's not perfect," Yao said, sounding rather wary. "The horse's flank isn't curved very well, and the back legs still seem too…stick-like to me."

"No, this is how I pictured it." Lovino grinned at the feel of warm, floaty happiness pooling in his chest. "This is perfect."

Berwald, towering over the both of them, plucked the horse from Lovino's hands and held it to the light. His gaze was, as always, unreadable. "Well done," he finally said, handing the horse back to Lovino. Then, in the small, stunned silence that followed, he ambled off to work. Yao watched him go, then just sighed.

"Well, I guess if you're happy." Smiling, he added, "you are good at this, Lovino. Glass blowing, I mean. You work hard and I admire that."

Fireworks in his stomach. Lovino couldn't stop smiling. "Thanks."

Feliks took one look at the horse and said, "no-one's going to buy that."

"It's a unique horse," Lovino defended weakly. "An avant-garde horse."

Emma laughed. "It still won't sell."

"Keep the avant-garde horse," Feliks said with a nonchalant shrug. "I know you want to."

And so, with the avant-garde horse wrapped safely in a newspaper page, Lovino went home that day, smiling like an idiot. It wasn't a perfect figurine, but it was something. Lovino loved it.

His family also loved it.

His parents made a big deal of holding it to the light and examining all the little orange and blue pieces inside the horse. His grandfather gave him a bone-crushing hug, something that left Lovino stammering and blushing and crossing his arms defensively.

Feli was the worst, though.

* * *

 **Lovino: look at what I made  
** **Lovino: *attached image***

 **Feli: OMG THAT IS SO COOL YOU MADE THAT?!  
** **Feli: AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
** **Feli: THAT IS THE COOLEST**

 **Lovino: oh my god feli calm down**

 **Feli: sorry xD  
Feli: are you gonna give it to that guy you like!?  
** **Feli: your bus-stop crush!?**

 **Lovino: I don't know I mean that's pretty embarrassing**

 **Feli: the fact that you think it's "embarrassing" is proof that you've CONSIDERED IT.**

 **Lovino: fuck off  
** **Lovino: but like i don't even know his name isn't it weird if I tell him I made him a horse**

 **Feli: that is a weird sentence**

 **Lovino: my point exactly**

 **Feli: YOU SHOULD GIVE IT TO HIM ANYWAY  
** **Feli: THINK ABOUT IT  
** **Feli: IT'LL BE A GREAT STORY TO TELL YOUR KIDS**

 **Lovino: has anyone ever told you that you go from A to Z really fast  
Lovino: i don't even know his name and you're thinking about what stories we'll tell our kids**

 **Feli: I'm an optimist is that so bad?**

 **Lovino: yeah it is it's annoying**

 **Feli: ┌∩┐(** ಠ **_** ಠ **)┌∩┐**

 **Lovino: WHAT KIND OF FUCKING WEIRD EMOJI IS THAT? HOW DID YOU EVEN MAKE THAT?**

 **Feli: hahahaha they're kaomojis! my friend kiku told me about them! They're so cute tbh  
** **Feli: also  
** **Feli: you know how the knight in shining armour comes riding in on a horse?**

 **Lovino: …yeah?**

 **Feli: this is literally your horse  
** **Feli: RIDE IT TO BATTLE  
** **Feli: LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD  
** **Feli: …that is a good song. A+ song**

 **Lovino: mio dio i'm going to bed**

* * *

It was never a good omen when Lovino woke up anxious. It used to happen a lot in high school. He'd open his eyes and feel a tightness in his chest, his heart hammering away, his stomach swooping. He'd been stressed then, between school and Feli and his insecurities. When he woke up like this, his day usually went in an antsy, angry blur. He didn't want this.

Turning on his side, Lovino took a deep breath to calm down. He didn't know why he was anxious, but there would be time to figure this out over a cup of coffee.

 _Note to self: coffee and overthinking is not relaxing._

By the time he was halfway done with his black coffee, Lovino could feel a distinct…aura…of fear around him, blanketing him, preventing him from holding casual conversation with his mom in the kitchen.

Why was he this stressed out?

He knocked on his grandpa's bedroom door. _Nonno_ had just returned from one of his long, five am morning walks, and was in the middle of changing shirts when he yelled, "come in!"

Lovino stopped, averted his eyes and waited for his grandfather to get decent. The man was fresh from a shower, drops of water dangling at the ends of his hair, the smell of shampoo wafting from the en suite bathroom.

"What's up, Lovi?" he asked.

Lovino swallowed. "I'm stressed and I don't know why and I don't know who to talk to."

His grandpa hugged him then. He was a strong-armed man, even for his age, and Lovino buried his head into the crook of his grandfather's neck. It was amazing what physical contact could do to quell needless anxiety. As though fundamentally, people were meant for hugging.

When they parted, Lovino blinked away the tears swelling at his eyes.

"Let's sit," his grandfather said, motioning towards the bed. Lovi obeyed wordlessly, watching as his grandfather took a seat next to him. "What's on your mind?"

"A lot, I guess."

Now that he didn't have his glass horse to obsess over, the bad thoughts had come flooding back in. That maybe his pretty glass horse wasn't so perfect after all. Maybe it was ugly and maybe, just maybe, Lovino was a little ugly too. Wasn't art a reflection of the artist? That was what Feli once said, and Feli's art was stunning. Lovino…he was nothing in comparison.

So maybe, Lovino didn't have any business fantasing about the handsome green-eyed stranger at the bus stop, who shuffled awkwardly and sometimes smiled but mostly watched the houses in the street, or stared out of the bus window, or texted on his phone. Lovino was just…ugly. Physically. Internally. Talentless. Bitter. Weak. Weak. Weak.

But he was so, so in love, too.

In love with the idea that maybe he was _more_ than what he'd imagined he was. Maybe he was _capable_ of beautiful things. The idea that maybe he needed to stop thinking of whether he deserved to be loved by people, and start thinking about whether people deserved to be loved _by_ him.

And maybe he was also in love with the idea of love.

Even though the handsome stranger was probably not into boys. Or was already committed. Or was simply a bad person.

In his head he'd played it all out.

 _I'm sorry. This is out of nowhere, but…we've been standing here silently for weeks now, waiting for some stupid bus. And. I've always been too shy to say hello. I'm Lovino. What's your name?_

Hey, Lovino! My name is _! I didn't want to bother you so I never tried talking. It's nice to finally chat, though!

 _Yeah…it's not a bother, really. I'm just…I'm not good with people. Ugh. It's embarrassing. Fuck._

Hahaha, I understand! Don't be sorry! It's totally cool.

 _Thanks…um, this is going to sound stupid, like, really stupid. But. So I work at a glass workshop. Well, it's an internship, but anyway. I made this little horse. And…ah…I don't know who else to give it to. Nobody I know wants it_ (lies), _but, I have it with me. Would you like to keep it?_

Wow! You made that? This is the most perfect horse ever. I love it. And you're just giving it to me?

 _Yeah. Sure. Keep it. I don't care. Whatever._

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! This is lovely. You're a pretty cool guy, Lovino.

… _Thanks. You're not too bad yourself._

"Lovi?" his grandfather prompted, and Lovino blinked, bringing himself back to the real world.

"I still worry that I'm not good enough." Shame flooded his cheeks and he looked away. Why was it so awkward to talk about his feelings? Feli didn't have a problem with this. So why did Lovino? Why was he the way he was? Always so goddamn _shy_!

His grandfather ruffled his hair. "Changing negative thinking takes time and persistence. You have to train your mind to think differently."

"That's…fucked up."

His grandfather laughed. "The mind is an odd place, I suppose. You have to learn to ignore the bad thoughts.

Lovino bit his bottom lip. "Easier said than done."

"That's true." His grandpa shrugged, staring at him with a soft little smile.

In return, Lovino sighed. "You know I'm gay, right?"

His grandfather stared some more. "Are you…coming out to me? Because I already sort of figured."

" _What_?" Lovino suddenly cried, teeth gnashing as he glared, more nervous than angry. "Did mom and dad tell you? Because I only told them and I swore them to secrecy!"

His grandfather laughed for a full thirty seconds. "I have _always_ known. I probably knew before your parents did. Why did you never tell me?"

Lovino rolled his eyes and shrugged, glancing away. "You're old so I thought you'd hate me."

For a moment he thought he'd hurt his grandfather's feelings, but then the older man just sighed. "Can't blame you for thinking that way, I suppose. But for the record, I don't hate you. I just hope you don't date a jerk."

"I appreciate it." Lovino swallowed, closing his eyes as he said the next words. "I wanted to give my glass horse to this guy I…like…" It was odd, scary, to be talking about something so intimate as his love life with anybody. He could barely talk about these things with Feli.

"Are you sure he's worth it?" his grandfather asked. Good question, all things considered.

"I have no idea. Really, I don't know the first thing about him."

His grandfather just stared. "Well then, if I were you, I'd think this over. You worked very hard on that horse and you don't want to give it to someone who won't appreciate it."

His grandfather was telling him exactly what he needed to hear. Lovino wouldn't have known what to do if someone wasn't giving him advice. Now, Lovino just stood. He had to get ready and go to work, after all. "I'll think about it," he conceded. "Thanks, _nonno._ "

"Do you feel better?"

"Somewhat. It'll pass. The negativity, I mean. When I'm around more people, hopefully."

His grandfather hugged him again. "If you don't feel very well, call me. Nobody calls me up anyway, so chatting on my cell phone will be a nice change."

Lovino grinned into his grandfather's embrace, and silently resolved to call his grandpa on the phone more often.

* * *

He missed his bus 34 that morning. Inevitable, Lovino supposed, considering how much time he'd spent sulking and talking to his grandpa. The handsome stranger was nowhere in sight.

Why would he be?

He wouldn't wait around for Lovino to show up.

That wouldn't make any sense.

* * *

 **Lovino: feli watch out, this is going to be a text storm  
** **Lovino: so yeah I'm thinking I'll give the horse to the hot guy I like  
** **Lovino: because I mean I do like him  
** **Lovino: and it doesn't matter if he doesn't like me back  
** **Lovino: I mean I'd be hurt that's true but like  
** **Lovino: here's what i'm thinking, okay? It's super metaphorical. The kind of shit you like  
** **Lovino: this is the first time i've ever made a real proper pretty glass figurine  
** **Lovino: and it's also the first time i'll ever MAKE A MOVE on someone i'm attracted to  
** **Lovino: so they're both firsts  
** **Lovino: and that means that they're not necessarily perfect  
** **Lovino: I mean I'll probs fuck it up  
** **Lovino: and lets face it my horse isn't perfect either, even though I love it  
** **Lovino: but like, firsts aren't supposed to be perfect  
** **Lovino: perfection is impossible anyway but  
** **Lovino: technique comes with practice  
** **Lovino: and I really don't want to be burdened by how shy I am  
** **Lovino: because like really? it feels like that dictates my life sometimes  
** **Lovino: like how i hate ordering food on the phone because i need to speak to a stranger  
** **Lovino: or how I haaaate going to the bank! Because of the people!  
** **Lovino: but? They're just people really  
** **Lovino: and they're probably just as shy  
** **Lovino: and even if they're not, they're just people  
** **Lovino: and people are interesting and different but on some level we kind of all want the same things in life?  
** **Lovino: that is, to be happy and safe and loved. Right?  
** **Lovino: anyway the point is, I'm going to try and get over myself  
** **Lovino: I'm going to give my figurine to the guy and talk to him  
** **Lovino: and if it doesn't work out that's okay. Because I can make more things in life than just a tiny little horse  
** **Lovino: and there'll always be someone else to fall in love with**

 **Feli: …wow that's a lot to take in  
** **Feli: but let me get this straight  
** **Feli: did you just equate "making a move" on someone  
** **Feli: to art?  
** **Feli: oh my god hahaha FLIRTING IS AN ART TO YOU  
** **Feli: THAT IS SO CUTE I'M GOING TO DIE :'D**

 **Lovino: actually FUCK you**

 **Feli: hahahhahaha xD  
** **Feli: okay okay no sorry :P  
** **Feli: I'm proud of your decision!  
** **Feli: whatever happens I love you and I'm proud of you!  
** **Feli: GOOD LUCK LOVI  
** **Feli: RIDE YOUR HORSE INTO THE BATTLEFIELD OF LOVE**

 **Lovino: please stop with this battlefield of love crap**

* * *

Henrique got home from work just as Antonio was trying to finish his coffee. It tasted sour in his mouth. His head was hurting again. His brother entered with the sounds of tired lumbering, dropping his bag to the floor, kicking his shoes off. It was raining outside. Henrique's shoulders and head were drenched.

They exchanged silent glances of acknowledgement before Henrique opened the fridge to scavenge for leftovers from dinner. "How was it?" he asked mildly, "flirting with that guy of yours?"

"Oh, he didn't show up yesterday. Maybe he was running late."

"That's too bad."

"No, not really. It helped me bolster my resolve." He smiled, despite the pounding in his head. "I'll talk to him today. I will. For sure. I'll do what you said. Introduce myself and explain that I'm just really socially awkward."

"Good call." He took out some leftover paella and put it in the microwave. Then, he actually looked at Antonio. And frowned. "Something," he started, "is wrong."

If this was his brother's doctor-side again, Antonio didn't want to hear it. As pointedly as he could, he took a slurping sip of coffee, that did nothing but make his stomach churn.

"You're too…" his voice trailed away, approaching Antonio with something very curious and concerned in his eyes. "Strained," he finished finally. His fingers brushed Antonio's forehead. Involuntarily, Antonio winced. He didn't want to be touched right now. His head was throbbing. "You _are_ sick, I knew it. You don't have a fever, but you're kind of clammy. Get back to bed."

"Please shut up." Antonio stood and crossed the kitchen to the sink, pouring the rest of his coffee down the drain. He meant it to look rebellious. "I just have a headache, because I didn't sleep enough."

"This may be news to you," Henrique started, sarcastically, as he took the warmed paella out of the microwave, "but too much sleep deprivation is problematic. And you've been tired since you started at this job. I was _telling you_ that the commute is too fucking long."

"The commute is fine, the job pays well. It's good fun." The last bit Antonio said with a slight pause, because if he didn't Henrique would get on his case again. But his eyes hurt, his head hurt, and he did just want to curl up under the covers again.

"You're going to catch the flu. It's in the air."

"You make for a pathetic fortune teller."

"You _need_ sleep, Antonio, that's how your immune system stays healthy."

As Antonio started to pointedly walk past Henrique, his brother added, "how did I end up with a shithead for a brother?"

"I ask myself the same question." He paused then, "is 'shithead' your favourite word? I've always wondered."

Henrique just narrowed his eyes. "Why are you always so damn defensive about getting sick? Nobody's going to judge you."

Antonio swallowed, fists curling.

But that was a good question. It came right back to the thing Antonio always did to make people like him. To make him seem less weird, less quiet, less shy. _Fake it till you make it_. To be shy was to be a trope. Cute, shy, demure, insecure. Antonio was not a trope. He could be just as tough as anyone, and for _fuck's sake_ , this was just a headache and a bit of exhaustion. As though millions of people didn't run on fumes and coffee as they worked.

His head just throbbed. Henrique's shoulders slackened, a combination of his own post-work tiredness and resignation at his brother's defiance. "Eat some fruit and take an aspirin. I _do not_ want you passing out again." He said it with the same bite-force tone of someone who expected his advice to be obeyed, and despite himself, Antonio felt his resolve wavering.

"Fine." He picked up an apple, washed it, and took a large bite. Once more, he felt his stomach lurched. Why did apples have to smell so sweet? And why was this headache increasing his _sensitivity_ to things? Light, sound, smell, touch…He lowered the apple, feeling suddenly sick. Maybe Henrique was right. Maybe he should just stay in bed.

"What?" Henrique was still looking at him like that, all perceptive and intelligent and bossy.

"Your paella's getting cold," was all Antonio muttered before he grabbed his messenger bag from the dining table.

"Antonio—"

He walked out before Henrique had a chance to remind him about those aspirins. Medicine on an empty stomach was a bad idea, but Antonio didn't feel like eating, so the aspirin wasn't even worth the trouble.

* * *

Antonio hated today and it hadn't even begun properly.

It was raining. And while he had an umbrella, he'd still been sprayed with water. And now he was in his first bus, cold (but thankfully not too wet), with a headache that wanted to kill him and eyes that refused to stay open. But he tried not to sleep while commuting. He was always afraid he'd miss his stop.

A message from Henrique.

 **Why are you such an IDIOT**

Antonio didn't bother replying. But more and more, he was starting to wish he'd just stayed in bed. His brother had done, like, years and years of medical school so he probably knew what he was talking about.

But he just…he didn't want to seem like a fuck up. Antonio cared, perhaps to an unreasonable degree, what his colleagues thought of him. Honestly, he cared what everyone thought of him. He wasn't completely dependent on their opinions, but Antonio still craved approval. And in a commercial space, you didn't get approval unless you showed up for work.

He'd be fine. It was just a headache. He could tough this out.

* * *

The second bus took the longest route, and Antonio dropped his guard. Curled up alone in a little corner seat, he closed his tired, hurting eyes and drifted off almost instantly.

He woke up with a start, half an hour later, his headache gone. He still felt sore, as though it might just come back if he wasn't careful. Still though, the nap helped. It really helped.

Antonio didn't get a moment more to enjoy his slight comfort.

"Where am I?" he stood, clawing his way out of the seat and to the front of the bus. He didn't recognise this neighborhood. There was a park in the distance, but Antonio couldn't remember ever seeing it before. No, no, no. He'd missed his bus stop.

* * *

After speaking to the driver Antonio realised he was only ten minutes away from his stop – he could make it if he ran. So as soon as the bus halted at the next place, Antonio jumped off and made a break for it.

He could not miss this bus. He could not be late. He could not.

And besides, he could not miss this bus because he was going to talk to the cute guy today! He was going to do it! Just pluck up the courage and introduce himself! He'd rehearsed this in his head over and over last night. He knew exactly what to say!

…He really hoped he was running in the right direction. At least all that time playing football with Gilbert had paid off: Antonio could keep going without stopping for air.

When Antonio finally made it to the bus stop, he failed to notice any of the details. He only saw one thing: the bus was about to leave.

"Wait for me!" he yelled as loudly as his breathless lungs could manage before he forced himself forward, not noticing how his foot crashed into a puddle on the road, not noticing how wet and sticky the floor of the bus was, not noticing how the pretty amber-eyed boy was right there, barely a foot ahead of him – he'd just entered the bus but Antonio didn't notice _anything –_

Until his foot slipped on the rainwater – either from the puddle or the wet, slipper bus floor – and he pitched forward. In a panic, Antonio grabbed the first thing he saw: the other boy's leg. Several things then happened at once.

* * *

The green eyed boy wasn't there today either, which upset Lovino a little. He wanted to get this over with. Give him the horse, introduce himself, figure out if there was any chance of…anything. The bus came, Lovino boarded it. His earphones were blasting Queen, even though fuck, he did not like the classics, he clearly just didn't. He just held the horse figurine in his hand, bare and unprotected except for the skin of his palm.

Until he heard a crash and a yell and something – someone? – tugged at his ankle just as the bus lurched into motion and Lovino didn't know what the _fuck_ happened –

And he was falling…falling…falling.

He crashed to the floor of the bus, the horse figurine flying from his hands and slamming back down with a terrible, decisive crunch. Someone's hand was still _curled against his ankle_ and when they finally fucking let go, Lovino raised his head to hear a pained groan.

Someone was pulling him up by the armpits. A large, silvery-haired guy with a thick Russian accent. "All okay?" he asked as Lovino nodded, shaken. He turned. The bus driver was helping the cute, green eyed boy to his feet. There was a trickle of blood from his forehead. Lovino felt a pang of worry, until he noticed the sting of his own hands.

"Shit." He opened his palm. It was covered in several tiny cuts, definitely from all the glass shards on the ground. "Oh god, no." He peered at the floor. "Nooo," he said again, his voice low and breathy as he bent over to pick up his glass horse. Or what remained of it.

The poor figurine was broken in three pieces: the head, the back, and…one of the legs was missing. An ear was gone. Orange and blue shards were _everywhere._ Lovino's eyes were stinging. His horse. It was gone. Broken. _Gone._

He turned his full ire on the idiot…the _bastard_ who let this happen. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" he snarled, advancing on the other man.

But it was hard to be mad at someone who was bleeding from the forehead.

"Did you hit your head on the steps?" the bus driver was asking him, kneeling at his level. "There's water everywhere and you really should not have been running."

"I know, I know…" he groaned, blinking rapidly. "I think I'm okay, it's just a shallow wound."

Lovino hated this guy so much right now. So why, why, why did he hear himself say, "my house is right here. You should probably come inside and patch yourself up." To the bus driver, he added, "I was holding a glass object and it broke and there are shards everywhere and…someone should clean that up, maybe."

The bus driver shot Lovino a severe look, but just said, "thanks, I'll look into it."

"Come on, bastard," Lovino snapped, hauling the other boy up from the shoulder. "Fucking _both_ of us are bleeding."

* * *

Antonio wanted to actually die of embarrassment.

What. Had. Happened. How could he have been so _careless_? And now, oh crap, oh crap, they were walking to the Almost Roman God's house, and Antonio was a breathless, sweaty, bloody _mess._ This was not how he'd pictured any of this.

Walking a step ahead of him in a stony silence was the Almost Roman God, who, in Antonio's opinion, had the right to be totally furious with him. He was holding what looked like glass in his left hand. The other palm was bleeding from tiny but numerous lacerations.

"I'm really sorry about this."

Great. He'd pictured this moment for weeks now, imagined what his first words would be. _I'm really sorry about this._ Antonio was not off to a good start.

The other boy froze, turned, and glared. Antonio tried not to die some more inside. There was no way he could recover from this…no way at all.

The Almost Roman God frowned now, and simply said, "we're almost home," before walking up to one of the identical doors and ringing the bell.

An old man – amber eyed, grey hair – opened, and Antonio couldn't help but notice what must have been, at one point, a striking resemblance between the two. The man looked between the two of them and his eyes went wide in panic. "Lovi, what on earth happened to you?"

"Minor accident," the Almost Roman God – Lovi? – said, "also, Asshole, this is my grandpa. Grandpa, this is Asshole."

The Grandpa didn't look particularly perturbed by the moniker 'Asshole'. In fact, if anything, he looked mildly amused. As Antonio entered the house, he asked, "what's your name, son?"

"Antonio," he murmured in response. Lovi turned his head at that.

"And I'm Lovino," he replied.

"Nice to finally talk to you," he muttered, shame making his words soft and unsure.

None of this. Was how. Antonio. Imagined. This. Moment. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why.

Lovino directed Antonio to the kitchen, gesturing to the dining table. Antonio made sure he was as quiet and unintrusive as he could be. The grandfather followed them with a first aid kit. Lovino stood by the sink, sticking his hands under water. "I might have glass in my cuts," he told his grandpa.

"Wash them properly. We can take out the rest with tweezers," the old man replied, his voice surprisingly patient. To Antonio now, he asked, "and you: are you dizzy? Tell me your symptoms."

"I don't think I have a concussion, if that's what you're getting at," Antonio replied. Gingerly, he touched the wound on his forehead and winced. "It's just a little blood."

"You got fucking lucky," Lovino snapped, turning to face him.

"What happened?" the grandfather asked.

"He tripped climbing onto the bus and dropped me down with him, and –" Lovino stopped here, his face going red and his eyes welling up. "The horse broke."

"What horse?"

"Oh gosh, Lovi, I'm so sorry."

Lovino fished out something from his pocket. The glass he'd been holding only minutes ago. "I made a glass horse." He put it on the table in front of Antonio. "And now it's broken."

Antonio stared at it, his heart sinking. Oh he had _so_ messed up. Taking the three sad pieces of glass, Antonio tried putting them together, just to see how the finished product might have looked.

"…You made this?" he finally asked, his voice soft. "You…actually made a glass animal?"

Lovino swallowed, his furious expression suddenly wavering. "I – I mean, yeah. I intern at a glass workshop."

"Wow." That sounded like the most unique job ever. He didn't know anyone who could blow glass. He'd never even thought about it. And yet, it seemed like such a fascinating profession. Difficult, perhaps, but still quite magical. "I'm sorry I broke it. For what it's worth, the whole thing must have looked pretty amazing."

From the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw Lovino swallow. And his grandfather pointedly left the room.

"…You can keep it. If you like. Even though it's fucked up and broken."

Antonio glanced up. "What?"

"The horse – you –" he suddenly went bright red and looked at his bloody palm. "Keep it if you want. Or don't. Whatever."

"Really?"

"Yeah, whatever." He jerked awkwardly towards the first aid kit and pulled out a cotton roll and some antiseptic solution. Antonio could see him blush right to his ears. It was so cute. Antonio caught himself smiling a little.

"Well, if you're sure. I think I'll keep it. It's pretty." His heart was pound-pound-pounding behind his ribs but Antonio finally felt like he was _onto something_ here. He could make this work. Just like Henrique suggested. Easy, honest conversation. No tricks, no games.

Lovino's skin burned redder and he shoved the cotton roll to Antonio. "Fix your forehead. I'm not going to do it for you."

Antonio chuckled softly, before taking the offered cotton and antiseptic from Lovino and dabbing it to his forehead.

For a few quiet minutes, the two sat opposite each other, cleaning their injuries and settling into something comfortable. Silent. Almost amusing, in its own gentle way. Antonio's head hurt, of course. He was pretty sure Henrique was going to lecture him until he died.

"My brother's going to kill me."

"Yeah?" Lovino raised his head slightly. "Why's that?"

"He's a doctor."

The other boy laughed, soft, almost tentatively. "How good a doctor can he be if he'll kill you?"

Antonio snorted. "I'll use that against him sometime."

He heard Lovino exhale loudly. "My brother will probably cry." At Antonio's questioning gaze, he added, "he's…emotional…sometimes…" Rolling his eyes, Lovino went on, "he'll jump to conclusions and imagine I've been blinded by glass or some shit and panic. It's sweet how he cares but it's really stupid too."

"They're nice when they care but yeah, I agree, it can get pretty annoying."

Lovino's pretty, pretty, pretty amber eyes brightened suddenly, a smile tugging at his lips. "And the reason why it's annoying is because they…tend to put you on the spot?" his tone suggested a question, as though, _maybe you know how I feel?_

"Yeah! Oh my god, exactly that. It's not like I don't want to be cared for, it's just, I don't want to be the center of attention!"

Out of nowhere, they laughed. A tender, friendly chuckle that made rocket ships explode in Antonio's heart.

"It's also other things, though. Like if they put you on the spot and prove you wrong, then somehow it's a bit humiliating. Like, my brother has this habit of goading me until I admit I'm sick, and it feels like I've been shown up."

"I totally get that, holy shit." Lovino shook his head, before grimacing as he plucked a shard of glass out of his skin with a tweezer.

"I really am sorry for everything," Antonio said again. "I didn't mean to hurt you, or break your horse."

"It's fine. You hit yourself on the head so we're even." Chewing his lower lip, Lovino added, "besides…it's stupid but…ah, I made that for you." And then he turned scarlet and covered his face with his uninjured hand.

Antonio thought he might fall off his chair. "What? Why?"

"Because don't fucking ask." Lovino swallowed. "I guess," he tried, speaking slowly, measuring his words, "I wanted to talk to you and I couldn't find the words."

The Almost Roman God…wanted to talk…to him? What? What? _Whaaat?_

"If you stare at me like that I'm going to die of shame." Lovino's voice was full of fake nonchalance. Antonio could see the way his hands shook.

"I…the truth is," Antonio confessed, feeling his heartbeat in his throat, "I wanted to try and talk to you too. And usually I'm so good at pretending I'm not shy, but when I saw you…I guess…I mean, I just couldn't speak."

The admission made Lovino widen his eyes before looking away, at the table, his hand, his feet, the floor. "Well," he said after a moment of tense silence, "this has been sufficiently embarrassing."

The laugh that escaped Antonio was surprisingly candid. Relaxed. One way or another, the game was up. He could take a breather now.

"…So, do you have to go to work?"

Antonio sobered at the thought. "I mean, ideally, yes? But I do think my brother would lecture my ears off if I went to work with a head injury. And I've been pretty tired, so…I don't know. Maybe I should just take this as a sign and go home."

Lovino nodded. "And I'm pretty much useless with my hand fucked up." For emphasis, he waved his hand in the air, and then hissed as it stung.

Stupid, misplaced worry soared in Antonio's heart. Who was he to want to protect Lovino from pain? They'd only just started to talk.

But then Lovino collected himself with a deep breath and with twinkling eyes, said, "you shouldn't go home alone with a head injury."

And Antonio had to bite down a smile because _he was not concussed, he would be okay on his own_ , and Lovino knew that too, right? This was it, then. He was being hit on. This was what flirting looked like.

"Are you going to come with me?" he baited, wondering if maybe that was too forward, perhaps even inappropriate.

"Is it really far away?"

"I have to change buses twice."

Lovino hummed. "In that case I better let my grandpa know I won't be back before lunch."

"Or," Antonio began, suddenly feeling a lot bolder than he ever had in his life before, "you could just stay for lunch. I mean, I can make some really great bocadillos."

* * *

As they left Lovino's house and walked back to the bus stop, conversation flowed effortlessly.

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter is like 7800 words long what the FUCK. It's 2.40 am I'm half dead with sleep save me.**

 **Also, in case it isn't clear, this is what the accident in the bus looked like.**

 **It's raining. Antonio is running. The floor of the bus is wet, and so are the bottoms of Antonio's shoes. Lovino has JUST entered the bus, he's still looking for a seat. Antonio clambers onto the bus and** _ **slips,**_ **just as the bus is starting to move. To save himself he tries to grab onto the only support he can see – Lovino's leg. It doesn't work anyway, because Antonio falls headfirst onto the steps of the bus and Lovino – because of the jerk on his leg combined with the motion of the moving bus, loses balance altogether and falls forward. That's how he hurts himself and that's how the glass horse breaks.**

 **Also it isn't stated but Antonio is getting a mild migraine, he just doesn't realise it yet because he's never had one before (happens to me way too often, I'm afraid). And I love writing healthy sibling relationships because I don't have any and I'm always curious about them. :3**

 **Thanks for reading this fic! It was just an absolute joy to write. I feel this is the most realistic fanfiction I've ever written, and it's close to my heart because I intensely relate to both of them so much, the good and the bad. So yeah, thanks for sticking along for the ride :D**

 **And now I'm going to go to sleep. Good night.**


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